There has never been beauty like yours. Your face, your eyes, your presence.
We cannot decide which we love most, your gracefulness or your generosity.
I came with many knots in my heart, like the magician’s rope.
You undid them all at once. I see now the splendor of the student, and that of the teacher’s art.
Love and this body sit inside your presence, one demolished, the other drunk.
We smile. We weep, tree limbs turn sere, then light green.
Any power that comes through us is you. Any wish. What does a rock know of April?
It is better to ask the flowery grass, the jasmine, and the redbud branch.